


Evidence Provided

by Macx



Series: Denuo [50]
Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Magic, Paranormal, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-13
Updated: 2011-05-13
Packaged: 2017-10-19 08:42:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/199000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hodges had tried to stay out of paranormal business, but paranormal business finds him as he saves the very vampire who is Ecklie's life-partner from a hunter, and gets injured in turn. No, he never wanted back, but now he's in too deep to just leave</p>
            </blockquote>





	Evidence Provided

The room was bathed in a warm, yellow light that fell through the large sky lights and spread comfortably in the beige-colored environment. Trees and other plants gave it all a very natural feel, including the hand-painted walls with the tribal motives. The floor was made of wood and rugs covered it. There were no chairs, no tables, just pillows and woven baskets.

No sound penetrated from the outside. Nothing disturbed the sensation of utter peace that permeated this place.

Nandi Kidja Kunene, resident shaman of Las Vegas, sat cross-legged on the floor, facing her protégée and part-time pupil. She was a tall woman, with an athletic body, her dark skin smooth and rich in color. She had shed the outfit of a business woman and manager. Gone was the suit jacket and pants, the crisp blouse and expensive shoes. She wore no more jewelry than simple ear rings, and her clothes consisted of soft brown pants and a tan colored blouse.

Dark eyes rested on the man she had gotten to know quite well over the last weeks. Conrad Ecklie was the complete opposite in private to who he appeared to be in public. He was a warm personality once he dropped the outward persona. Warm and loving and capable of such compassion that Nandi no longer wondered why Caine’s powers had moulded him to their liking. He might not have been a prime candidate for becoming a shaman, not even a secondary choice, but he was the right man to continue Caine’s work as a shaman. Right now he was still fighting his destiny, but the future would show him the way.

Nandi had agreed to the rather unusual request of the new shaman to keep his existence under wraps. Caine had been killed because someone wanted to upset the balance of the shamanic powers in the world, killing not only the shaman himself but also whoever might be a candidate to receive the powerful energy Caine had harboured. Ecklie had come across a dying candidate by accident and no one but a select few knew he was now a shaman himself.

So Nandi surrounded him with shields and they only dropped when he was in this room and safe from detection. Here they trained his handle of the magic, the power that was just beneath the surface.

And it was a lot.

She reached out and brushed her senses over the other man, feeling his balanced state. Nandi smiled, feeling pride at his achievements. He was learning fast.

This fast learning was needed and right now important because within the last weeks he had had recurring nightmares and visions, and she believed it was someone out there trying to contact him.

Why Conrad Ecklie was anyone’s guess, but whoever it was, he had stopped broadcasting and that was worrisome. In past sessions they had been able to close in on the signal, had found a path that led through the spirit plane, and had followed it, but now it grew a lot trickier.

The source was gone.

Staying in the background, Nandi let Ecklie do the work as she protected him from the dangers of the spirit plane while he backtracked the thin line of contact that had resulted in such strange dreams and visions for him. A better trained shaman would have immediately made sense of it, but as a new one he had just blamed work and stress for it.

Conrad did everything smoothly, sliding along the line as he had done before in past sessions, reaching the point of before where it grew more difficult to find the correct way. Hesitating briefly, he turned to her, reassuring himself that the shield was there.

Nandi sent warmth and confidence. Ecklie turned, visibly steeling himself, then carefully entered the unknown.

It felt like hours of wading through the swamp of signals until he reached a new intersection. Conrad chose the path going left and Nandi knew the moment they had hit jackpot.

Ecklie rocked back under the assault of sharp, cutting signals, and he cried out in pain, Nandi gasped as she recognized the energy signatures, grabbing for the flailing shaman to pull him out.

“Conrad!”

Another wave crashed down and Ecklie went under, unable to counter-act the violence with which he was attacked. Nandi knew he wouldn’t last long and she did the only thing she could, though it was just as painful: she yanked him out.

From one second to the next they were out of the spirit plane and Nandi blinked, inhaling deeply. Her eyes fell on Conrad, who lay on the ground, breathing hard, eyes screwed shut. Lines of pain marred his face.

“Conrad?” she asked softly, not touching the man.

She knew he was currently highly sensitive to any kind of touch and it would only be painful for him.

“What… was... that?” he gasped.

“You hit a dead end.”

Brown eyes opened and flashed a look at her. But Nandi wasn’t joking.

“The contact you were following was violently sheered off, Conrad. You felt that violence.”

“No… kidding…” He tried to get up, but Nandi pushed him back, shooting him an apologetic look at the wince of pain her brief contact initiated.

“Lay back, Conrad. Relax. Give your body time to adjust to the shock.”

He groaned a little and closed his eyes. After a while the brown orbs opened once more and Nandi saw they were clearer.

“Dead end?” he prodded, making no move to sit up.

She sat down cross-legged again. “It looks like whoever wanted to talk to a shaman or who he could reach was forced to sever his contact into the spirit plane. You touched that cut connection and it’s like a raw, open wound.”

“You think he might be dead?”

Nandi was silent, contemplating the question. It was one answer as to why there was no resonance any more, no new attempts to talk to them.

“I don’t know,” she finally said. “Whatever happened, we can’t pursue it on the spirit plane.”

“Probably not,” was the soft answer.

Ecklie didn’t look like he actually wanted to anyway.

“We know what area the caller came from more or less,” the shaman continued. “I think it would be best to go there in person and continue the search. There will be signs you and I can’t see from here.”

Ecklie closed his eyes and massaged his forehead, probably fighting a headache.

“Montana is big.”

“But not too big. We pinpointed a place in the North. It’s close to the Canadian border.” Nandi smiled when he cracked an eye open. “I was able to keep an eye open for clues while you were trying to find him.”

“Ah.”

“And I think I know someone who can help.”

“Good,” was the faint reply and Ecklie continued to massage his temples.

“Headache?”

“No, I’m just peachy,” he snapped, then shot her an apologetic look. “Sorry.”

“You’re pain,” Nandi said, smiling calmly. “And it wasn’t a pleasant experience. I understand your feelings right now.”

Ecklie sat up, looking a bit pale and like he wanted nothing more than to lay down again.

“At least one of us does. I feel like I spent a week on the binge.” Again he rubbed over his temples. “Please tell me an aspirin would help…”

Nandi reached out and gathered some gentle magic in her palm, touching his forehead tenderly. Ecklie flinched, then relaxed, eyes widening briefly.

“Better than aspirin,” she said with a smile.

He nodded and Nandi watched as his muscles relaxed more, as his forehead smoothed, and she pulled her energies back to give him room.

“Anything else you want me to try today?” he asked after a while, the corners of his mouth lifting in a little smile.

Nandi chuckled. “No. Go home and rest. I have a few calls to make to investigate into the matter.”  
   
 

Ecklie left not much later and Nandi immediately went into her office to place the aforementioned call.

Something had happened to the person who had tried to contact their new shaman.

Something bad.

* * *

It had been two weeks since the revelation that David Hodges was an ally. Things had smoothed from the rough start, but they weren't the same any more. Grissom knew now; as did Nick. Not to mention Greg. That knowledge, as well as Hodges's reluctance to be an ally at all, had roused Grissom's interest.

Hodges's mother was a vampire. He had grown up among the paranormal. He had been an ally by family status. He had never wanted to be one. Grissom could understand reluctance, but the almost paranoid denial to be part of this… it surprised him.

David knew about them. He knew about Grissom's status as a Phoenix, his involvement with Nick, who was a Mimic, and he knew about Ecklie. He knew that the animosity was only show. He knew that Ecklie and Franklin were an item. He knew Franklin wasn't a rogue.

And he refused to help, be the ally they might need. Greg had tried to talk to him, but he had been brushed off with the same curtness Hodges was known for.  
So for the first time, Gil Grissom actually took a deeper look into the file of David Hodges. Yes, he had employed him, but Grissom took a different approach to employment records than most. As a scientist he looked at the qualifications, the experience. He didn't care about recommendations because words were just that: words. They had needed a forensic scientist for Trace.

Hodges had been the man.

His behavior was a bit… off sometimes, but Grissom knew he wasn't a role model either. Hodges came across as brief and curt with colleagues, sometimes called rude, but he never misbehaved. He tried to get noticed by his superiors, which was something Grissom had caught on after a while, but since the supervisor had refused to be lured, Hodges had finally given up.

It had also been the start of a change within the man. He had become more… accessible, though Hodges still snapped a little now and then. It was in the man and not easily erased.

Now, looking into the personnel file of his Trace lab technician, Grissom felt some things make more sense. Especially the paranoia, the jumpiness sometimes, and the fact that Hodges was easily annoyed at people looking over his shoulder. After the explosion that had injured Greg, Catherine had told him that throughout their investigation into the cause, they had talked to Hodges. The man had claimed they were listening to the rumors and lies of L.A.

She had asked Grissom what rumors and lies.

He hadn't known.

Now the picture was slowly pieced together, and it was ugly.

Grissom leafed through the sheets and his lips compressed into a tight line. Through his work as a supervisor he had learned to read between the lines, and what he read here was the clear attempt to get rid of an unwanted employee.

He just needed the true reason, the real why.

"Hey, Gil," a voice startled him and he looked over the rims of his glasses.

Nick shot him an apologetic and questioning look. "Whatcha reading?"

"A personnel file."

"Hodges?"

Grissom's eyebrows shot up and Nick gave him a dimpled smile.

"Hey, he's the latest addition to our merry team of paranormals and allies, and we really don't know him. I bet you're ticked off you never caught on to him, and that he never told you."

"I'm not 'ticked off', Nick. I'm just curious."

Nick shrugged. "Whatever. Why the file then? You hired the guy. You should know what it says."

"Yes, I should," Grissom conceded. "But I don't. At least nothing aside from his qualifications."

"Ah. So… any enlightenment?"

Grissom closed the file and took off his glasses. "Actually, no."

"Which means…?"

He smiled angelically. "I'll start asking the right people."

Nick grinned.

L.A. The right people were in L.A. Those who had written the sparkling recommendations. Those who had tried to get rid of a man who had perfect qualifications, but who seemed to have an attitude problem.

Grissom wanted to know what hornets' nest this attitude had touched, what had stung Hodges so badly.

* * *

David Hodges slowly walked over the Strip, not one bit impressed by it all. Tourists were floating around, gamblers were entering their casino of the night and he… well, he was going to meet a vampire. Not a too unusual thing given the fact that he was an ally.

This was stupid, was running through his head as he crossed the street.

It was stupid. Childish. Very much so.

Stuffing his hands into his pockets he shook his head at his own idiocy.

He was on the way to a meeting with a man he had avoided like the plague the last few weeks. A man who, for reasons he didn’t even understand himself, scared him.  
Hodges had grown up with vampires; hell, his mother was one. He had known them from an early age on and he had never had any problems with them, glowing eyes or no glowing eyes. Vampires were human beings with a blood condition, a virus in their system, and nothing else.

It had caused one hell of a hubbub in three entire communities when he had falsely accused Franklin of being a rogue based on false and outdated information, and the vampire had... no, he hadn’t really threatened him, no. But Franklin had felt the need to start an investigation of his own, needing to know who might be after him, not to mention his life partner.

Conrad Ecklie.

Assistant Director Conrad Ecklie.

Hodges still had slight problems picturing his boss as not only the soul mate of a two centuries old vampire – and he really didn’t want to picture some of that – but a shaman-in-training.

Talk about hiding in the open, Hodges mused.

Franklin had walked into his lab one day and scared the living daylight out of him, inquiring to know about, well, his intentions. Ever since the confrontation with Franklin he had acquired a fear that was focused only on this man.

After the waves had settled the vampire had apologized for his rash behavior, but there hadn’t been enough time for more than a slight ‘I’m sorry’. And obviously Franklin seemed to want to change that, since he had called and asked for a meeting.

At sundown, at a little café just south of the Strip. And Hodges, to his utter surprise, had found himself agreeing.

Franklin wasn’t the rogue Hodges had believed him to be. He was a normal guy, actually, who had once held a higher position in the community of San Francisco. He had fallen, had landed hard, but he had survived. And he wasn’t either malicious or really terrifying.

Stupid, he thought again.

He was scared of shadows. Scared because… because… why, really? Because Franklin was Ecklie’s lover and as such had influence on Hodges’ superior?

No, not really.

Okay, so maybe those were the reasons. It didn’t warrant the abject fear… not really. Not after he had gotten to know the man, after Franklin had apologized to him, looking like a beaten puppy. Not after seeing how close he was to Ecklie, seeing the love and the devotion and the protectiveness.

Stupid.

Still, the fear was there and he had to deal with it. That Franklin wanted to help had come as a surprise.

Of course the vampire had been aware of his unease, the way his heart rate went up whenever Franklin was around, how he kept out of his way should the blond come by the precinct to pick up his partner.

The call had surprised Hodges; the call and the question. Franklin had asked him for a chance -- a chance to talk, to get to know each other outside the lab and the police and the pressure of ally-vampire relationships.

So now he was on his way to the café he had chosen. Franklin had left it to him where to meet and the small place was where Hodges had spent time before. It was roomy, but not too big, had good food – not that the vampire would really mind the food – and he felt marginally safe.

Leaving the parking lot behind him, Hodges hurried across the street, which was as busy as usual. There was a long stretch of more concrete in front of the entrance of the café, which stretched halfway around it, and it was more parking space, mostly of the casino that rose like a gigantic, glowing thing next to the lower building. Looking around, he saw no sign of Franklin and was just about to turn and enter, when he heard it.

A soft popping noise.

Followed by a gasp.

Hodges froze.

Sounds like these, in the early evening hours, in a not very populated space…

He wanted to turn away and forget he had heard it, but something pushed him on. Curiosity probably.

Coming around the back of the building he froze at the scene.

There he was, Franklin. Face set into a grimace of pain, the vampire had ground his fingers into the wall behind him to keep him upright while the other hand was clutching his thigh. Even from his position Hodges could heart he harsh breaths, the moans of pain, and he could see something ugly and bluish green sticking in the jean leg of the vampire. Franklin's entire body was trembling and the eyes – Hodges almost stumbled back, something old and terrified inside him jerking at the sight of the silver glow.

The vampire growled deep in his throat at the threat.

Threat…

That was when he also became aware of the dark clad figure moving swiftly toward the vampire, who seemed to be completely incapable of moving. The figure was about Hodges’ size, wearing black clothes, a baseball cap, black boots, and…

He froze for a moment.

He was holding a – stake?

Hodges felt a glimpse of amusement bubble inside him at the sheer absurdity of the picture, but then it kicked in.

Vampire.

Looking injured, vulnerable.

Man with a stake.

Going – for – the — vampire.

Hell!

Hodges was moving before his mind could even make up a plan. He took in the predatory way the stranger was closing in on Franklin, how the vampire was in pain, how the dart remained in the muscular leg. He felt his own adrenaline pound into his blood, felt determination rise, and when the stranger was upon his victim, he yelled.

“Hey you. What are you doing there? I’m calling the police.”

Well, maybe not the smartest of comments, but much better than ‘stop trying to kill the vampire, you moron.’

Hodges had never known himself to be brave. He wasn’t a coward either, but he was no hero.

The outcry was effective nevertheless as the man’s head whipped up. All Hodges could see was a ski mask and surprise widened eyes. The attacker stopped for a second, obviously unsure of whether to run because of the unexpected interruption or to take on the paralyzed vampire along with the witness.

Hodges breathed a sigh of relief when the stranger took the first option and disappeared into the shadows. He didn’t give him a second thought – at least for now.  
The relief didn’t last long when he heard Franklin give a moan of pain and sag to the ground. The vampire had hunched over to protect his injury, and he was whimpering softly. Whimpering in pain. A lot of pain.

The dart was still in the leg.

Hodges felt his mind retrieve old memories, old knowledge, and terror lanced through him at the possibilities. An injury like this was nothing to a vampire. They could get shot and still walk around until the blood loss caught up with them. A puncture wound was nothing in that book.

So it had to be more.

It had to be poison.

And the only poison he knew of that affected vampires like that was…

“Hawthorne,” he breathed.

Oh shit.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit…

He had to get the dart out, get Franklin to safety, find blood for him…

All that was running through his mind. Ally knowledge came back. All the first aid methods for vampires, all the right treatment… he had been taught everything and he had never really forgotten.

“Franklin?” he queried softly.

All he got was another whimper.

“I’m going to remove the dart, okay?”

No reaction. Just harsh breathing, tremors shaking the lithe form.

Hodges had no idea how much Hawthorne Franklin had been injected with, but whatever the amount, it was agony.

Reaching for the dart, he placed one hand on a trembling shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly, while the fingers of the other closed around the dart.

He pulled.

And Franklin lashed out.

With a snarled hiss of pain, the vampire lashed out at his helper, catching Hodges’ arm and flinging him halfway across the ground until he struck the side of the building with a sickening thud.

Silence.

Punctuated by whimpers and moans, by ripping sounds.

David heard the rush of his blood in his ears, tried to reinflate his lungs. He had been winded by the impact and the first pain signals were already making it through. His back, his side, his arm…

Gasping for air, coughing hard, he tried to sit up.

Shit.

Stupid!

He should have thought of that, he told himself angrily. A wounded vampire was a wounded animal. Running on instinct, unable to tell friend from foe in his pain, Franklin had pushed the one hurting him, even while helping him, away.

Not his fault, Hodges thought firmly as he clambered to his feet, unsteadily coming over to where Franklin had curled up.

The vampire looked ghastly, he saw with horror as he knelt down next to him. Chalky white, sweating, shaking hard, he had his arms wrapped around his middle as if in pain, and the gray eyes were screwed tightly shut.

Hodges knew he needed help. He couldn’t get him home on his own.

Debating his options he finally knew there was only one thing he could do. Talking softly to the harshly breathing man, letting him know it was him, that he meant no harm, that Franklin was safe, Hodges searched Franklin's pockets. He drew out his cell phone and checked the recently dialled numbers.

Good.

The vampire just lay there, eyes half-closed, too weak to do anything any more. That last attack had taken everything out of him. The Hawthorne had taken full effect.

He was dying.

* * *

Conrad Ecklie had been at home, going through internal reports he had taken home from work to look through in the peace and quiet of his own four walls. Franklin wasn’t home tonight, at least until much later, because he was meeting with Hodges. As much as it had surprised Ecklie, he appreciated the effort his lover was making.  
Hodges had come back to his life as a lab technician at the lab without any visible changes. The man knew about them now, but like very ally out there, he didn’t make it publically known. He did his job, just as efficiently as before, and he was as socially snappy when the mood hit him as before.

Nothing had changed on the outside.

Everything had changed inside. Hodges knew more than he had ever wanted to know and he didn’t want to be part of this. He didn’t want to be an active ally, but there was little chance of that now. Ecklie knew they needed him. They needed every ally out there. Allies did the most important work and Hodges couldn’t just walk away and turn a blind eye to it all – because his instincts were still working.

He had shown just how much he was an ally when he had thought Franklin was a rogue.

The AD smiled as he sorted through the in-house reports, notes and journals. He didn’t really mind the paperwork he had found out after taking this job. He wasn’t in love with it, but he also didn’t despise it. It was what came with being who he was.

He was just an hour into his work, typing away at his laptop, when the cell phone rang. Frowning he opened it and looked at the caller ID.

Franklin?

Feeling something curl in his stomach he took the call.

"What's up?" he asked. "He didn't show?"

There was a brief pause, then a voice he hadn't expected said, "Sir, this is David Hodges. I'm at the Sundance Café at the corner of Third. Franklin was shot and I need your assistance."

Ecklie felt his body go numb. Franklin? Shot?

"Sir!" Hodges' sharp call startled him.

"Yes," Ecklie managed. "I… I'm on my way."

He was within five minutes.

* * *

It had been a nightmare. Breaking every speed limit, using the police lights installed in his SUV to cross red lights and intersections, Conrad Ecklie had arrived at the scene within record time. He switched off the lights the moment he drove across the bump at the entrance of the parking lot, feeling the jolt all the way down his spine, and stopped around the back of the building.

Hodges was there, kneeling next to the curled up form of his lover. The man seemed strangely calm as he met the almost frantic Ecklie.

“We need to get him in the car,” the lab tech ordered, voice firm. “We haven’t been seen yet, thanks to the busted back lights, but we have to hurry!”

Ecklie nodded, opening the back doors of the SUV. With shaking hands he touched his partner. Franklin was breathing hard, his face bathed in sweat, eyes screwed shut.

“Franklin?” he whispered.

“He’s in severe pain,” Hodges told him. “He needs blood and he needs a safe place.”

Ecklie swallowed and helped to get the unresponsive vampire into the back of the car, closing the door.

Hodges stuffed something into his jacket pocket, then let his eyes sweep over the deserted lot. There was no one.

It was Hodges who drove them.

Ecklie wouldn’t really have been able to do so safely. He was next to Franklin in the back, holding him, feeling the violent shivers racing through the slender form. Whimpers escaped the bloodless lips and they stabbed deep into his soul.

“What happened?” he asked.

Hodges was maneuvering the car through the street, lights flashing again, and his face appeared as pale as Franklin’s in the headlights of the other cars. It was a mask of concentration.

“He got shot by a poisoned dart. The shooter was wearing black, had a ski mask over his face, and ran when I arrived.”

Disbelief coursed through him.

Someone had shot Franklin with a poisoned dart?

“Poison?”

Franklin convulsed a little, crying out in pain.

“Hawthorn,” was the strained answer.

The SUV bounced over another curb and then stopped abruptly. Ecklie looked up and discovered to his surprise that they were home.

Franklin’s face contorted into another grimace and tears of pain slid down his pale cheeks. Ecklie hoisted him up and the two men carried and dragged the vampire inside.

“He needs blood,” Hodges’ voice penetrated Ecklie’s mind. “Lots of it. The Hawthorne has to be washed out of his system. How many blood containers do you have at home?”

“Five,” he answered, reacting to the reassuring decisiveness in the other man’s voice.

“Get them.”

And he did. Following orders from one of his subordinates, who was an ally, who knew what to do. Ecklie had been an ally before becoming a shaman, but he had never dealt with a poisoned vampire. He had never even thought of asking Franklin about first aid for his kind.

Taking the containers out of the fridge he walked back into the bedroom where Hodges had cut open the right pant leg, inspecting the little wound in Franklin’s thigh. To Ecklie’s eyes it looked almost harmless. Like a sting. But it was where the poison had entered his lover’s body.

Franklin moaned softly as Hodges carefully palpated the area. There was a little dried blood around the puncture and the bruise was spreading. He met Ecklie’s eyes.

“Feed him as much blood as he can take. The more he gets, the faster this runs out of his system. I’m calling in for more supplies and I need to inform the community about the attack.”

Ecklie just followed orders.

Shrugging out of his suit coat, kicking off his shoes, he crawled onto the bed with his pain-ridden partner, and began to gently coax him into drinking his first shake.  
He never noticed Hodges leave.

*

He hadn’t had time to really think. Not while he had helped Franklin, had called Ecklie, had waited for the ride, alert for another attack that hadn’t come, and while he had treated the weakening vampire. He had called Max to get some more blood to the Ecklie’s home. He had informed his contact of the attack and the young vampire had been decidedly scared. Hodges had then called a second contact, one he had only recently been told of higher up in the community, and things were in motion.

Whoever the attacker had been, there was now a community looking for him. Hodges didn’t want to speculate who the man had been, but one thing came to mind. One thing that scared him.

Vampire hunter.

They existed. They weren’t called Van Helsing, but the vampire hunter of the well-known Dracula movies was based on their existence.

Thing was – the movies had it all wrong. Like with many things, the vampire communities had made sure that what humanity thought was a vampire hunter, wasn't really who they were.

Hunters stemmed from the communities. They were vampires themselves who had one important job: protect the communities from rogues. Rogues were vampires without a conscience, living without the rules, killing humans and other paranormals without remorse, and they had been the reason why Hunters had been called into existence.

So for centuries, Hunters had protected the vampires, had killed those who would kill at random, who went out of control, who were rogues. It wasn't an easy job and it required an amount of acting that few had. Hunters intermingled with humans, hid their true state, their vampirism, and they disappeared when the job was done, leaving more smoke and mirrors.

But like with many things, time changed the concept. The true Hunters were still vampires or allies, but there were groups out there, human groups, who copied what books told of the hunters. They thought they were regular Van Helsings. The media called them crazy. Courts sentenced them for killing innocents in the mad belief they had been vampires.

And the communities watched them as much as that was possible. It wasn't always. And sometimes a real pro came forth; someone who knew. Someone who had the sources to point him into the right direction.

Like this someone.

Hodges was too paranoid to believe that the hit on Franklin had been some crazy kid believing in myths. This man hadn't tried holy water and crosses. He had used Hawthorne.

Probably in a watered down version to finish Franklin off with a stake and then dump him somewhere. If it had been the pure stuff, the blond wouldn't be alive any more.

Hodges shook his head, refusing to think of this nasty possibility right now. Instead he concentrated on more urgent matters.

Ecklie was with his partner, Max would be here soon, and Hodges felt the need for coffee. He scanned the kitchen for the appliances and then went about making a pot of the hot liquid, ignoring the pain signals from his own body. Coming down from his adrenaline high, now that everything had been done, his body was telling him in no uncertain terms that he hadn’t come away unscathed. He would probably have some spectacular bruises tomorrow.

His arm, the one Franklin had used to fling him away, was especially painful, and he tried not to do much with it. He had probably twisted something. Wonderful.

Leaning against the kitchen counter, David inhaled deeply, another lance of pain racing through him.

Bruised ribs, he thought dimly as the world started to sway.

The impact with the brick wall hadn’t been healthy. He would probably be unable to move by tomorrow morning.

He stifled a sigh, which would only aggravate the injuries further, and reached into his jacket’s pocket. Taking out the dart that had hit Franklin, he gazed at the offensive weapon through the plastic, then placed it onto the table.

Maybe there were prints on it. Prints from the hunter. If so, they might just be able to get a hit on it. He would have to check it in the lab. Well, not personally. He knew that a tech from Trace working fingerprints would be slightly too suspicious. Maybe one of the others smuggled it in as evidence from a made-up case. Grissom or Stokes doing a fingerprint analysis on this dart wouldn’t be too suspicious.

For now he just concentrated on matters at hand. Max would be here soon and Hodges felt he really needed a coffee now.

And some Tylenol. His head was killing him. As were assorted other body parts  
   
 

He never noticed the cat watching him from the corner of the door. Cleo's large, yellow eyes were on the human who was so obviously in need of help, too. Finally she turned and slipped into the bedroom where her human and his vampire partner lay. She settled down on the foot end of the bed, tail curled around her body, tip twitching.

* * *

Conrad looked down at the pale blond, running gentle fingers through the limp strands of wavy hair. Soft breaths touched his bare skin, a sign that the man was alive. Franklin’s eyes were cracked open a little, the gray dull and filled with barely numbed pain. Three container of blood stood empty on the night table and Ecklie had the fourth ready should Franklin be able to drink more. At the moment he couldn’t, though. It had taken very long to make him swallow the second and third helping, and number four would be torture right now.

The vampire swallowed dryly, leaning into the tender caress. Conrad smiled, never stopping the gentle motion.

“It’s okay,” he murmured soothingly. “You’re safe. You’ll be okay.”

And he prayed it was the truth.

I can't lose you now, he thought almost desperately. Not now, not ever.

He had to ask Hodges about the consequences of Hawthorne poisoning.

“Con… rad?” Franklin whispered, sounding weak and frightened.

He gathered him in his arms, holding him close, kissing the top of the unruly head.

“I’m here. Shhhh…”

“…happened?” came the breathy question.

“You were hit by a dart. Poison.”

“Oh.”

Tremors wreaked the weakened body and Franklin groaned, hands grabbing at Ecklie’s already very rumpled shirt. Conrad helped him ride out the new attack and ached with his lover, unable to do more than be there.

“…hurts…” Franklin moaned.

“I know, love. I know. It has to flush out of your system.”

Franklin’s eyes slid shut, but the harsh pants still told Ecklie that he was very much conscious.

It took another two shakes, ingested slowly and with little sips, for Franklin to finally slide off into sleep. Ecklie had heard someone moving outside, heard voices, and then silence again. He trusted Hodges to keep them safe, to protect them.

Running his fingers through the blond hair, Conrad smiled when his lover instinctively turned his head into the caress. He kissed him softly, then carefully disentangled himself. Franklin moved again, but he didn't wake.

Cleo, who had been sitting at the foot end all the time, came over on light feet and curled up on the warm spot where Ecklie had just been. She purred deeply, the rumbling sound very reassuring.

Ecklie gave her a brief smile of gratitude, brushing over the silky fur. Covering Franklin with the blanket, Ecklie then left to get himself breakfast.  
   
 

He walked into the kitchen, wondering where Hodges was, how he was doing. He had completely forgotten about the ally.

He found him in the kitchen as he followed the smell of coffee.

And he looked like hell.

Ecklie hadn’t really looked at the other man when they had brought Franklin here, when he had followed the precise, competent orders, but now he did.

What he saw alarmed him.

Hodges was pasty white, his eyes glassy with pain. He held his left arm protectively against his body, the right was used to keep him upright as he leaned against the kitchen counter.

“Hodges?” Ecklie asked, worry rising.

Those pain-filled eyes rose and he immediately stepped forward as David Hodges began to sway. Reaching out, Conrad caught the left elbow – and knew it had been a mistake.

Hodges cried out and his knees buckled, eyes closing in a grimace of utter pain.

“David!”

And Ecklie found himself supporting the dead weight of their ally.

* * *

Dr. Lee Kim was a known face to Ecklie and he had been the only man he could think of calling in such a situation. They had met over a year ago when Ecklie had been shot at a crime scene. Kim was an ally at the local hospital, one of many in that profession, and he had made it possible for Franklin to visit his partner freely, without the fear of being discovered as a vampire.

Now Kim had responded to his emergency call and he had immediately decided to get Hodges to the hospital. The barely conscious technician had at least one broken bone in his arm and several colorful bruises otherwise.

Unable to leave Franklin, Ecklie had thrown Sanders out of bed and asked him to go to the hospital to keep an eye on Hodges. The young CSI had responded as quickly and efficiently as he was used to.

Sanders had called two hours later, well into the morning hours by now, updating Ecklie on the matters at hand. Hodges had a cracked radius and a broken ulna bone. Painful but not life threatening. His ribs were bruised, he had several contusions all over his side, and some muscle strains. In addition he had received a mild concussion, which meant he shouldn't be left alone. Normally Kim wanted him for observation, but Hodges had adamantly refused to remain in the hospital. He had signed himself out, and Kim had only agreed because Greg had volunteered to stay with him.

"How could that have happened?" Ecklie asked. "How could he have been hurt like that?!"

There was a brief silence, then Greg sighed. "Hodges wasn't very forthcoming with the information and all. I think Franklin lashed out at a perceived enemy before he collapsed completely."

"What?!"

Another sigh. "Hodges was there when Franklin was shot. I think he told you that much already. And when he pulled out the Hawthorne dart, Franklin must have made a defensive move. It's what I can piece together from what he was willing to reveal."

Oh hell… went though Ecklie's head. That would do ways of bad things to the already rather haphazard relationship between the two men.

"I'm taking Hodges home and I’ll stay with him till he gets off the meds. Don't worry about a thing," Greg went on. "When he's more coherent, we can get the story."

"All right. Thanks," he murmured, still shocked.

Ecklie hung up and briefly closed his eyes, feeling everything tremble around him.

Franklin had hurt their ally.

Shit.

But right now he couldn't deal with that particular fall-out. He had a sick vampire to take care of, feed him blood, and pray that no lasting damage had been done.

A soft mrowing alerted him to the presence of their feline roommate and he smiled a little as he scratched Cleo’s head. She butted insistently against his hand and he chuckled.

“When it rains, it pours, hm?”

Her purring increased a notch.

Ecklie scooped her up into his arms and went back into the bedroom. Cleo snuggled into his hold, the rumbling purr reassuring and calming.

* * *

Lambert Falls, Montana. It was a town in the middle of nowhere, but still it drew its fair share of tourists. In summer it were the hikers and anglers, in winter it were the winter sports buffs. Lambert Falls was tiny, with just one Bed and Breakfast, a gas station, a general store, but also its very own doctor and sheriff, who patrolled a larger area than just the fifty souls town.

Outside the town, small or medium sized houses dotted the landscape of mountains and mountain ranges that were awe-inspiring. There were farms and ranches, too, all looking picturesque against the backdrop of an artist's dream of a landscape.

When the pick-up with the Utah plates pulled up in front of the gas station, no one really gave it a second look. This was the season for hikers and campers, and the surrounding parks had issued hundreds of permits already. It was just the beginning and more were expected throughout the height of summer.

What drew a few looks was the large dog hopping off the car. It was gray, with pointed ears, a bushy tail and a definite mix of wolf in its blood. It had a red collar and a permit dangling from it. So the local authorities had approved it running around the park.

The man accompanying the dog was tall, dark-haired and clean shaven. He was wearing outdoors clothes, which consisted of well-worn jeans, equally used shoes that spoke of miles of hiking already, a black, long-sleeved shirt, and a leather jacket. A baseball cap sat on his head.

Buck Wilmington entered the general store, smiling at the woman behind the counter. Vin was at his side, looking like any large dog would look, though he was far from one. Petting his head, scratching behind an ear, Buck gave the impression of a dog owner and his slightly oversized pet.

"Hello," he greeted the woman.

"Hello and welcome to Lambert Falls. If you need anything, let me know."

Buck still smiled. "Sure do." He looked around and started to walk through the aisles like a man on a camping trip looking for supplies.

Vin remained where he was, sitting on his haunches, looking around curiously. His ears moved like little radar dishes. Suddenly he got up and trotted over to an old, rickety looking chair, sniffing at the seat.

Seeing the woman's slightly dubious expression, Buck placed the cans of food on the counter, giving her a winning smile.

"Don't worry. He's house trained."

That got him a snuffle from Vin, who couldn't really growl at Buck for the comment. Wilmington smiled more.

"He's yours?" the woman asked.

"Yep. My partner, Miss…?"

"Dana," she said. "I'm Dana Roman. You say he's your partner…?"

Buck nodded. "I'm working for the Salt Lake police," he told her truthfully. "Dog unit. We're on vacation, having some time to ourselves and all."

"I see. He's a very beautiful animal. Looks like… a bit of a wolf, really." She smiled shyly.

"Oh, there was some wolf somewhere in his ancestry. Good nose and ears. Very good at finding drugs and people."

Vin continued sniffing the chair, then looked at the empty seat, tilting his head. He snorted a little.

The woman watched him, her eyes suddenly filling with emotions.

"Is something wrong?" Buck inquired gently. "I mean if he disturbs you…?"

"No, no." Dana gave him a bit of a watery smile. "It's just… this was my father's chair. He sat here most of the time when he wasn't working the gas pump or talking to people. Visitors like you."

Buck looked at the chair, briefly meeting the yellow eyes of his partner. Vin's expression told him that he really needed to talk to him.

"I'm sorry; did your father…?" he prodded gently.

Dana nodded, wiping at her eyes. "A week ago. His heart gave out. He was a healthy man and never had any problems, but then… we found him in bed. He died in his sleep."

"I'm very sorry, Dana. Blue!" Buck called. "Come here, boy."

Vin trotted over like a good dog and he petted him. He paid for the food, made some more small talk with the woman, and then left. Vin hopped into the pick-up and Buck drove off.

After about two miles he stopped and Vin changed smoothly from wolf to human, shrugging into a sweater and pants.

"Vin?" Buck queried while watching for anyone around.

There was no one. They were on their own,

"I'm not sure about Mr. Roman's death," Vin said quietly, "but I know he left someone behind."

"His daughter?"

"No, a spirit animal."

Buck's eyebrows rose. "His spirit animal?"

"Yep. It was there, on his chair." Vin grinned. "Right now it's on the dash of the car."

"What?"

Buck knew he couldn't see spirit animals, while his partner could. Vin was a spirit walker and saw them all, had one of his own actually. It was a gecko.

"It's a sparrow and it just sat there. Right now it's sitting here, with us, and it looks… agitated. It has been ever since we came in. My gecko was there with it."

"Okay. What now?" Buck asked.

Vin's head came around and he followed something unseen with his eyes. "I think we follow it."

"It flew off?"

"Yep."

"Okay, then we follow the bird."

* * *

Buck drove along the highway, following the directions of his partner, who was watching an, for Buck, invisible bird.

They were actually working under cover, Vin more so than Buck. About a week ago, Nandi Kidja Kunene, the Las Vegas shaman, had called her fellow shaman in Las Vegas. Brian had immediately sought out Chris Larabee to ask a favor. Normally shamans kept their problems in house, but this wasn’t a shaman problem. This actually concerned them all, as Nandi had said.

Apparently Conrad Ecklie had been bombarded with communication attempts from someone who didn’t have much time on the spirit plane or was unfamiliar with its use. Why it had hit only the recently born shaman was anyone’s guess, but he had been receptive to the calls. With Nandi’s help he had tracked it back to the origin, but except for a general area, nothing more had been determined.

So the favor had been asked.

Someone had to go and check the area in question. Something had happened there, someone had called for help, and then the communication had stopped. From Nandi’s description she suspected the worst – and since they had now found a dead man who had once had a spirit animal, Buck knew there was something bad here.

Chris had asked his two men if they wanted to take a few days off, officially, and check out northern Montana, near the Canadian border. Vin had been all for it, looking forward to being the wolf for a few days, and Buck had just shrugged. He had never been there. So why not?

The area Nandi had told them about was around Lambert Falls, a small town in the middle of the mountains, almost at the border, and they had hit the jackpot right away.

Buck had driven about five miles when Vin called out a stop. He leaned forward and looked to the right where a wooden sign said ‘Antiques, 400 m’ and pointed down a dirt road.

“That way,” he instructed Buck, who pulled onto the dirt road.

They drove along the uneven terrain, trees lining the road and farm land behind them, when a building came into view. It was a farm house with a huge barn next to it. There was open range all around the house and the remains of an old corral.

No animals were in sight. The whole thing looked abandoned.

Vin frowned and started to pull off the sweater and pants, smoothly changing into his wolf form before both men left the car. Vin looked up, woofing at the unseen bird, and trotted after his invisible guide.

Buck let his eyes roam over the farm house, handling it like he would a crime scene.

The house was definitely one of the older ones, from the times when cattle ranches and farms were the only thing up here. At least one hundred years old, he mused. There were land lines running toward the house, speaking of electricity present.

A handmade sign above the barn doors had ‘Antiques’ written on it. The barn looked newly painted and the doors were secured with a heavy iron lock. There was no car or motor bike anywhere, but they could be in the barn, Buck mused as he approached the house, passing a hand-crafted bird feeder that looked like a windmill.

Vin was snuffling around the front, woofing softly as Buck joined him.

The door was locked. The windows had curtains barring any peeks inside. The name on the wooden sign next to the door bell was ‘Paul’.

“Somebody home?” Buck asked.

Vin shook his head.

Okay…

“And the bird’s still here?”

A nod. Vin looked toward the window’s ledge, where flowers were blooming in the late afternoon sun.

Everything looked peaceful.

Rounding the front of the house, Vin trotting beside him, Buck inspected the back yard. There was a chicken pen but it was empty. From the looks of it there had been chicken in it not too long ago. There was also a small garden, the vegetables growing and looking tended to. There was chopped wood and some sculptures, halfway done, and all looked like the artist had just left for a shopping trip, to be back in a few hours.

“So…” he said out loud. “Why did the bird lead us here?”

Vin tilted his head in thought, looking at the peaceful scenery. Very picturesque if you were a photo buff.

The sound of car, the crunch of gravel under heavy tires, alerted them to the approach of someone. Buck walked back to the front, in the hope that it was the owner of the house.

It wasn’t.

The man getting out of the sheriff’s car was about the age of Orrin Travis, with the same gray hair. He was rather thin, almost bony, and his hair was longer than their AD’s. Sharp blue eyes looked out from under the broad-rimmed head, resting on Vin longer than on Buck.

“Can I help you folks?”

Vin settled down next to Buck like a good dog, tongue lolling, trying to appear non-threatening.

“Hello, I’m Buck Wilmington,” Buck said in a friendly voice. “I was just wondering where the owner is, sheriff…?”

“Lewis. Hank Lewis,” the older man said, pushing back his hat. “Well, Michael’s… no longer with us.”

“Oh.”

Another dead body? Buck thought. Interesting.

Now his criminalist’s mind was starting to work.

“You’re not from ‘round here, are you?”

He shook his head. “Salt Lake. Me and my partner Blue here are on vacation.”

“Interesting dog.”

Buck grinned like a man who knew that that comment meant. “He’s got some wolf in his ancestry. But he also got the best nose in the whole unit.”

Lewis raised an eyebrow. “Police dog?”

Buck nodded. “Salt Lake PD, dog unit.”

“Nice to meet a city slicker colleague. So you’re camping?”

“Yep. Know some good places?”

Lewis was visibly thawing and willing to talk to a fellow law enforcement officer. “Well, up at Berta Lake are some nice spots. Do you like fishing?”

“Yep. Got my gear with me.”

They had all the necessary gear for camping in the truck. It was their cover. Buck looked at the silent house.

“You were looking to buy some antiques?” Lewis wanted to know.

“Yeah. Friend of mine back home in Salt Lake likes that stuff. He told me to keep an eye out for some specific things and when I saw the sign I thought I’d drop by. Too bad. Mind if I ask what happened?”

From one officer to the other, he added silently. One professional to the next.

Lewis just shrugged. “Nasty accident. Michael here was a loner. Got some real nuts further up in the mountains. No heat, no electricity, just living it like in the old days.” He chuckled. “Mike wasn’t that extreme. He just wanted to be left alone. Nice guy. A bit shy, if you ask me, but he knew his stuff where his art work was concerned. My wife has some of his stuff. She really liked him. He came to a dance now and then. Good guy.”

Lewis sighed, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

“Well, old Gary Roman found him up here about a week ago. Just before he died as well. Guess he was too upset about Mike having that accident. Heart gave out.”

Buck nodded. “Yeah, heard about that in the store. Talked to Mr. Roman’s daughter, I think. I hope I didn’t upset her. She was a bit distraught.”

“Yeah, well, with her marrying in a month and all… wasn’t exactly happy news that the old man died in his sleep.” Lewis looked at the house now. “Well, Mike here was an accident. Bad one. He was working on some piece of art and must have slipped. Fell right into the table saw. Nasty. Real nasty. There was blood everywhere.”

Buck grimaced in sympathy.

“Doc said he bled out. Poor devil.”

“And Mr. Roman found him.”

“Yep. They were good friends. Roman gets all the deliveries and stuff, and Mike dropped by once a month to pick things up. When he didn’t, Roman drove here and found him. Must have been dead for a few days, too.”

So the man owning this place, living a reclusive life, had died. Roman had found him and had died not much later. And he had had a spirit animal. Buck knew something was wrong here.

“Really bad,” he agreed with the sheriff. “Doesn’t rain sometimes, it pours.”

“You don’t say it. You probably see more dead bodies in a day than we get in a month.” Lewis chuckled.

“Yeah, but I can never get used to it.”

They were walking back to the cars, Vin following Buck faithfully. He hopped into the pick-up.

“Well, it’s getting late,” Buck said. “I better find a place to set up my tent.”

“You do that. If you pass by again on your way back, drop in. Coffee’s good,” Lewis invited him.

Buck grinned. “Will do. See ya, sheriff.”

And then he was off, driving back the road they had come. Vin whined softly, expressing his doubts about all they had heard.

“Yeah,” Buck murmured. “Let’s find a spot and then call home. Something’s going on here and I want to know what.”

* * *

Franklin woke slowly. It was like dragging himself out of a swamp.

A very persistent swamp because he couldn't move an inch without getting sucked back in.

So it took him a while to really make it to consciousness.

The first thing that registered was a warm body next to him. Very close, holding him… soft skin under his touch… Franklin inhaled a familiar scent that immediately started to calm his struggling mind.

Conrad.

With him.

Good.

Burying in the warmth and smell, he gave a soft murmur of contentment, letting his body wake at its own pace now that he was safe in the knowledge that he was… protected.

Hands moved over his back, stroking, caressing, petting, and he snuggled closer. He heard a soft chuckle and a kiss was placed onto his head.

"Franklin?"

He didn't want to acknowledge the world right now, but he heard the worry in Conrad's voice, which launched a few memories.

Burning pain where a needle had entered his flesh.

A pain that quickly spread through his system as a poisonous substance entered his blood.

Cramping agony.

Fading awareness.

A pain that didn't fade but only grew worse.

He gasped involuntarily at the memories and was immediately calmed by the hands stroking over his back.

"Shhhh… it's over. You'll be fine. It's over."

Franklin swallowed and held onto that voice, the body, the touches.

The attack. It came back to him.

Waiting for Hodges… hearing a noise… walking around the back of the café… and then the muffled sound followed by a sharp pain in his thigh.

He had been shot.

With Hawthorne.

"Conrad?" he whispered desperately.

"You're fine. It's going to be okay," his partner repeated.

Franklin opened his eyes, trying to find the familiar face of his lover, and suddenly looked into the serene brown eyes he knew so well. Ecklie smiled at him, caressing his face.

"It's okay. You're safe."

Safe… He was safe…

"I was shot…"

"Yes. Hodges witnessed the shooting and chased off the attacker." A grim line appeared on Ecklie's features. "I'll tell you all about it when you're up to it. Now drink something and get more rest."

Franklin only too gladly followed the first suggestion because the hunger started to rise. It was gnawing at his mind and the two shakes went down like water. The nourishing blood settled in his stomach and he sighed almost in physical relief.

“You okay?” the vampire whispered softly.

“I’m fine, Franklin. Just sleep.“

So he closed his eyes, not questioning the ’order’.  
   
 

Ecklie looked at his sleeping lover, smiling as he watched the rise and fall of the broad chest.

A feeling of warm contentment enveloped his mind and soul. He ran a caressing hand over the tousled hair, smiling to himself as he let his hands wander over the smooth skin on one cheek, coming to rest against one shoulder.

He had fed Franklin so much blood, he suspected the vampire was on a blood high by now. The color had slowly returned to the gray features and he was more coherent. He had never for a moment thought about the danger he himself was in. Franklin was a creature living on instinct at the moment, feeding on the life-giving substance he needed to heal, and that Ecklie was a warm body full of it had never crossed the man's mind.

Gazing at the peacefully looking blond, Conrad let those thoughts pass through him. No, he hadn't felt afraid of his lover. He hadn't thought about the instinctual nature of the severely injured man. He had simply reacted.

Pulling the blanket higher, he stroked over the smooth cover.

Franklin was getting better. He would be fine.

* * *

The call home had been interesting. Buck had used his cell phone to get a connection, which worked even out here, while Vin prepared the tent and the fire. They had found a secluded little campground. It was one of those self-registery places where Buck only had to fill out a slip and drop it into a box. He then chose a spot that gave them some privacy.

“Well, according to Nandi the spirit animal is the last indicator that we’re at the correct spot. She suspects that Roman is our spirit walker.”

“And he’s dead.”

“Maybe because he found Mike Paul’s body? Whoever he was.”

“The sparrow seems to think so because he led us to his home.”

Buck looked into the fire, thinking. “We have to dig deeper, but I doubt we’d get anything by officially asking for files and interviews.”

Vin’s eyes twinkled in the warm light. “You wanna do some breaking and entering?”

“Who? Me? Tanner, I’m aghast at the implications!”

Vin chuckled. “Right.”

His partner smiled. “Well, yes, I think we have to do some illegal digging. I’m just wondering where to dig first.”

“We have two people who died of suspicious circs. One’s a spirit walker who called for help. How about him first?”

Buck nodded. “How do you want to handle it? Wolves?”

“Best way. We sneak in, have a look around, sneak out again.”

They packed their special backpacks, those wolves could easily get into and carry without using hands, and fifteen minutes later they were on their way. The fire was out, the campground lay silent, as the black and the gray wolf moved noiselessly through the bushes.

* * *

Vampires had one big advantage over humans, aside from longevity, and that was a sped-up recovery rate. Even with Hawthorne poisoning, healing was a lot quicker than average. Franklin was up and about the next morning, looking a bit worse for wear, too pale in Ecklie’s eyes, but he was walking under his own power. Wearing a slightly too large sweater and comfortable pants, he was making it from the bedroom to the living room.

“I’m okay,” the blond said as Ecklie watched him with eagle eyes. “Just… weaker than normal.”

Greg had told him the very same thing. A weak vampire was still strong compared to a human. He might now only have average human strength, but he wasn’t about to keel over.

Ecklie was doubtful, but he tried not to hover. Well, he tried. He knew he was failing miserably.

Franklin had another shake for breakfast and then took a long, hot shower, which Ecklie didn’t share. He was hardly in the mood for anything erotic at the moment. When the vampire came back, hair damp, skin a little more flushed from the heat, Ecklie held out a mug of coffee.

It got him a little kiss and Franklin leaned against him as they stayed on the couch. Cleo had curled up on the back, looking like a fluffed up sphinx, her forelegs folded inward, eyes half closed. The small ears were pricked and despite her relaxed look, she was highly alert.

“So I was shot, hm?” the blond asked after a while.

Ecklie tensed a little. “Yes.”

“With Hawthorne. That either says a rival, which I doubt, or a hunter.” One sandy eyebrow twitched quizzically.

Conrad sighed. “The latter.”

“You informed the community.”

“Hodges did. He found you, called me, got the blood delivery…”

Franklin nodded. “We wanted to meet. At the Sundance café. Is he okay?”

Ecklie hesitated for a moment. He hated to lie to Franklin, but knowing he had hurt their ally…

“Conrad?” Franklin sat up, brows drawing down. “Did the hunter get him?” he demanded, worry clear in his eyes.

“No. The man fled when Hodges came upon the scene.”

The worry deflated only marginally. “But something happened. I can hear it in your voice. What happened?”

“Hodges was there when you were hit and his presence chased the hunter away. He called and told me where you are. And he tried to take the dart out.”

Franklin stiffened. Looking at Ecklie, the gray eyes widened in horror. “Oh no, please… I… Did I…?”

Ecklie sighed. “You lashed out and caught him. I didn’t know until he collapsed in the kitchen.”

Franklin looked like he wanted to get sick. Right now, right here, and very very violently.

“You didn’t know it was him,” Conrad said softly.

“I could have killed him,” Franklin whispered, aghast.

“But you didn’t. He’s alive, he saw a doctor, and everything will be okay.”

Ecklie prayed that his lover wouldn’t ask just what he had done exactly. Franklin would probably beat himself up over this.

Taking him into a light embrace, pressing a kiss to the tousled hair, he rubbed over the muscular arms, wanting to reassure. Franklin didn’t say anything, just lay there, until he finally sighed.

“Damn,” came a soft whisper.

And it summed it all up very, very nicely.

Franklin buried himself into warm embrace, closing his eyes. He started to tremble slightly.

"You want to go back to bed?"

"I'm rather comfortable where I am now," the vampire murmured, snuggling into his hold. "But if I have you in bed as well...?"

Now there was a blatant hint if he had ever heard one, Conrad mused, grinning. "I thought you felt weak?"

"Weak compared to my normal condition. The vampire version of weak," came the sly answer. "And I'm no invalid."

"Never said that.".

"Won't break either."

He chuckled. "Who said you would?"

"Conrad…"

Ecklie pushed him back onto the couch, leaning over the slightly pouting man, and he had to smile at the expression.

Franklin pulled him close. "Love me," he whispered.

"I already do."

Conrad's hands slid under the wide sweater, touching soft skin. Franklin's eyes darkened and Ecklie claimed his mouth again.  
   
 

Cleo looked at her human and his vampire mate. Yellow eyes rested on the two forms, then she rose gracefully and hopped down from her place. Noiselessly, the familiar left the room and went on a brief tour of her territory. Finding everything to her liking, she slipped out the cat door and began to inspect the neighborhood.

* * *

He couldn’t change the fact that he had to go to work. Conrad Ecklie had taken half a day off already because of his lover, making up an excuse. Since he had never been sick or had rarely taken days off without good reason, the director didn’t ask any questions. Franklin had argued that it wasn’t necessary that he stay home all day.  
The vampire was okay, just weaker than he was used to, but he wouldn’t keel over in a dead faint.

So he went. To keep up the façade, he went and tried to do his work.

Franklin was left alone, with enough blood to last him for a week if not more, and his own thoughts. Sitting on the couch, legs up, he stared at the wall without seeing anything.

There was a vampire hunter out there, one the community now knew about, and he had picked him as a target.

Random hit? Planned hit? Franklin’s bad luck?

He didn’t know.

He only knew that Danielle was keeping him under guard now. Somewhere out there would be allies and at night vampires, watching them, keeping an eye out for a possible new attack until the hunter was caught.

And caught he would be.

Franklin didn’t doubt it. A hunter rarely made a mistake and continue to live because the communities caught wind of him pretty quickly.

He had talked to Danielle himself, had reassured her that he was fine, and he had asked her to calm down whoever was out for blood. Rash actions wouldn’t get them anywhere. They had to think with the same cool logic the hunter did.

Throughout those thoughts he came back to David Hodges. The man had saved his life an he had attacked him for it. Franklin knew that he had only defended himself in his pain, had reacted instinctively, but it sat badly with him. He had hurt an ally, and on top of it he had hit someone who he was trying to become friends with.

So much for that, he thought darkly.

How badly had Hodges been hurt? was another question. What had he done to him? Vampires were strong. Even a shove could be harmful.

Conrad had never told him of the specific injuries.

So it was more than a bruise.

He groaned softly and sank into the cushions. He would never be able to make this up to the man. Hodges would forever evade him, maybe leave Las Vegas like he had fled L.A.

I have to talk to him.

His mind made up, Franklin checked his watch. It was just before three and he knew someone who could drive him to Hodges’ place, his invisible guards be damned.

The vampire picked up the phone and dialled.

* * *  
   
 

Ecklie had found the bag with the arrow in it on his kitchen table after Hodges had broken down, and when the commotion around the injured man had died down and Ecklie had returned home, it had still been there.

A tranquilizer dart. Like for big game hunts.

The very thought made him grit his teeth and want to get his hands on the hunter.

Vampires were not game!

His first emotion had been to throw the offending dart away, but then the criminalist had finally broken through and told him to get a grip. There were only three people who had touched the dart: Hodges, maybe Franklin, and the hunter. So there would be prints.

Prints…

AFIS…

Ecklie had taken the bag with the evidence along to work and he had cornered Nick, asking him to dust for prints. Stokes had simply nodded and disappeared with the dart in the lab.

It was two hours later that Nick knocked on his open door, peeking inside.

"Come in," Ecklie said.

Nick did and closed the door behind him. He was holding a sheet of paper in his hand.

"I ran the dart," he said, sitting down on a chair. "Three sets of prints. One is from Hodges, which I excluded. One is smudged and looks like someone just brushed over the dart. I suspect that was Franklin, but I can't be sure. The third set I ran through AFIS. No match found. Whoever loaded the dart, he's not known."

Ecklie sighed. "It would have been too much of a good thing if we had gotten a hit."

"Yeah. I also found DNA. Blood. I guess it's Franklin's."

"Did you run it?"

"No, only if you want me to. We'd have to kick it to the DNA lab, get Mia involved."

Ecklie nodded. "I know. I also just want to make sure it's only Franklin's. I'll sign whatever we need to make it an official examination."

Nick smiled. "I was thinking about having it run as a comparison sample to one of my cases."

Ecklie smirked a little. "Are you getting into ally work, Mr. Stokes?"

He laughed. "No, but I learned from Greg and I know what to do. Mia will run it and I'll log it the correct way. I'll let you know."

With that he rose and left.

Ecklie returned to his work.

* * *

He had broken his lower arm. David Hodges looked at the removable cast, feeling the distant ache of the broken bone. It was just one ache of many, but it was the most obvious injury. He was drugged up to the gills. Pain-medication kept the discomfort down and it made him sleepy. It was enough to actually have him ignore the persistent nausea.

Hodges had no idea when he had made the transfer from Ecklie’s home to the ER, but suddenly he had been there. His vitals had been taken, he had been x-rayed, examined, and finally the cast had been slapped on. Through it all he had felt like in a dream.  
Far away.

Someone had driven him home after the hospital and he had been only slightly surprised to find out it had been Sanders.

Greg was an ally. Of course he would take care of the fall-out.

Hodges closed his eyes and tried to slide off into sleep. It didn’t really work.

Damn.

The next thing he was aware of was a warm hand touching his forehead. His eyes snapped open and for a moment he didn’t know where he was.

His bed.

His room.

His home.

And warm brown eyes regarded him with worry.

“Nandi?” he rasped.

The shaman smiled. “Hello, David. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to wake you.”

He blinked and tried to sit up, but fell back with a groan. His body ached abominably.

“Shhh, it’s okay. Just rest.”

“W-what are you doing here?”

“Conrad told me what happened. I thought I’d see how you’re doing.”

And her being a shaman meant she could easily come into his home without a key. Hodges found he didn’t really mind.

“Do you want your medication? It helps with the pain.”

He nodded slowly, then winced as the concussion told him that nodding was a really, really bad idea.

“Yes,” he whispered.

David wasn’t a hero. He liked to be without pain. Nandi rose and left for a moment, only to come back with the prescription medication. Hodges swallowed two pills and sank back into his pillow.

“You didn’t have to come and baby-sit,” he murmured.

Her answer was a tolerant smile.

“How’s Franklin?”

“Getting better. The poison still has to leave his system completely, but there are no lingering ill effects. He’ll be fine again in a few days. Conrad will keep an eye on him.”

Of course he would.

Hodges sighed softly, closing his eyes briefly. “What about the guy who shot him?”

“The community is looking for him.”

He opened his eyes and met her serious gaze. Both knew who the man most likely was, but neither said it out loud.

“Danielle wants someone to protect Franklin until they have found the man. Franklin isn’t happy, but at the moment he has to agree. He’s too weak to defend himself and Conrad’s powers are still shielded.”

The pain meds were kicking in and he felt himself relax a little more.

This was so wonderful, so nice. Have someone here who cared…

Idiot, part of him growled. She’s not your friend and she doesn’t actually care. She was sent to keep an eye on you because no other ally had time.

He felt Nandi’s touch, the warmth permeating him, taking away the nausea, and he slid off into sleep, but the nagging in his mind continued. He so much wanted someone look past his barriers, but he was terrified of what they might see… and how badly burned he would end up once again.

* * *

Greg had grumbled all the way to Hodges’ address. Franklin just gave him a thankful smile when he got out of the car and hurried over to the building, trying to keep out of the sun. He knew he was risking a lot with being out throughout the day while his body was so weak, but he wanted to get this over.

To his surprise the door was opened the moment he arrived and the surprise doubled when he saw the greeter. Nandi smiled at him.

“I’d like to claim I felt you coming through the fabric of the world,” she chuckled at his stunned expression.

“But you got a call?” the vampire hazarded a guess.

“Yes. Greg.” At his deep sigh, Nandi twitched another smile. “He’s just doing his job, Franklin. He’s an ally and he’s supposed to keep you safe.”

“Yes, I know.”

Walking into the apartment, the blond vampire looked around, seeing no sign of Hodges.

“He’s asleep. He had a bad few moments and is in a lot of pain.”

Franklin stiffened a little. Of course Hodges was in pain. He had broken his arm, damnit. As well as left him with assorted other painful areas.

“You actually have good timing,” Nandi went on conversationally.

“Huh?”

“My assistant called. I’m needed at work and I have to leave. I was reluctant to have David on his own. He has a concussion and he needs someone watching him. Your arrival was well-timed.”

Franklin shrugged. “I just wanted to see if I can save whatever relationship we might have now.”

Nandi’s dark eyes met his. “Don’t believe you have failed, Franklin. It was an accident and he knows that.”

“I’m not so sure,” Franklin murmured.

She gently rubbed one shoulder in passing. “Give him a chance.”

“I do. I just want him to give me one. That’s why I’m here.”

“Good. Now… David might be a bit disoriented when he wakes. He broke his left arm, “ – I broke it, Franklin thought as Nandi told him about the injury, “and he needs to take his medication. Have you handled concussion victims before?”

He nodded.

“All right. If there’s any kind of emergency, call this number.” A card was handed to him. “Otherwise, have fun.”

The vampire chuckled wryly. “I’ll try to.”

Nandi left ten minutes later and Franklin was alone. He took a shake out of his backpack and downed it slowly, feeling the rejuvenating effect of the blood as it chased away the persisting weakness from too much exposure to sunlight in his already rather delicate state.

He then explored the apartment and finally settled on the couch, switching on the TV. He set it on a low volume not to disturb the sleeping ally, and relaxed into the cushions.

* * *

He felt marginally better when he woke the second time, though only marginally. Very marginally. His head still hurt, as did his arm, and the sick feeling in his stomach persisted. Getting up was a feat and only because of his stubbornness did Hodges make it out of bed. Call of nature.

His headache increased and he sighed deeply. Just his luck that Nandi’s magic was wearing off. Speaking of the shaman, he wondered where she was.  
Hodges walked into his living room just to stop short at the sight greeting him there. For a moment he thought he had to be hallucinating, but when those gray eyes met his, the surge of adrenaline convinced him otherwise. The headache began to pulse as the blood pounded through his ears.

Franklin was here.

In his home.

Doing… crosswords?

Sitting on the couch, socked feet up on the seats, the vampire looked like he had been here for a while. There was a soda next to him, a bowl of snacks, and the crossword puzzle looked well-used.

"Oh, hey!" Franklin called, smiling. "You're up!"

Powerful deduction, Hodges thought almost giddily as the situation took on a more surreal look for him.

"You want something to drink?"

"No," he answered distantly. "What are you doing here?"

Franklin sat up and put down the crossword.

"Nandi was called away. Trouble with something at The Shaman."

Hodges had to lean against the wall, feeling dizzy again. He hated concussions. Not that he had had many, but he still hated them.

Franklin… Franklin was here instead of Nandi…

"You okay?"

The voice was suddenly very close and he flinched away.

It was the last straw and his stomach decided to revolt.

Hodges didn't know how he made it to the bathroom, but he did, and he threw up what little he had eaten while Nandi had been there. Groaning softly, he tried to fight the dry heaves, but they came anyway. Painful and raw, his stomach still tried to expel what wasn't there any more.

Someone held him as he sank forward. Someone placed a wonderfully cool cloth against his neck. Someone flushed.

Hodges, his eyes closed, wished he could just curl up and die. He simply felt miserable, and his broken arm began to throb again.

"Here."

A glass was pressed into one hand, and he rinsed his mouth.

"Okay?"

He nodded, regretting it immediately, and those strong hands guided him carefully to a standing position.

"Bed?"

"Yes," he rasped.

Hodges fell asleep almost immediately after laying back down, and while part of him happily told him that it was Franklin helping him here, he just didn't have the energy to be anything but exhausted.

And he dropped off to sleep again.  
   
   
 

The next time he woke and made his way – via the bathroom – into the living room, Franklin was watching TV. It was a few hours later and from what Hodges had determined by peeking out the window, it was morning. Late morning.

The volume was turned down and the vampire was watching the news. Leaning against the door frame, Hodges let his eyes rest on the colorful pictures of the report, the volume too low for him to really hear everything.

"Better?"

The question startled him and he looked at his 'baby-sitter'. Franklin was meeting his eyes, appearing worried.

"Yes."

"Up for food? Hungry?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe a tea…."

Franklin jumped up and smiled. "Okay, I can manage that."

He disappeared into the kitchen and Hodges followed, still mystified. As he sank onto a chair, he watched the blond, frowning slightly.

"You're still here."

Franklin glanced at him and shrugged. "I'm here till Nandi's free. Conrad's busy."

Hodges grimaced to himself at the thought of his boss coming here to sit and watch. His eyes fell on a plate of freshly made waffles. He took in the clean state of his kitchen and for the first time noticed the done dishes, ready to be put away, and the faint smell of cooking.

Franklin had made waffles?

Franklin?!

Hodges looked at the man in question, who had apparently not seen him do a brief sweep of his kitchen.

"The sun's up, so I really don't have a choice," the vampire was saying, and gave him quick smile and a shrug.

The technician sat down on one of the kitchen chairs, confused as to why Franklin would make waffles. And they smelled good. "You can walk outside in the sun," he remarked.

Franklin placed the mug in front of him, face kind of neutral. "Well, yes. Normally. Right now my condition is… rather delicate."

The Hawthorne. Yes. Damn. Vampires recovering from a close brush with the deadly poison would be rather sensitive to sun light and other things that normally wouldn't bother them very much. And Franklin was old enough to have a high resistance to many things harmful to younger vampires.

He frowned.

"Then how the hell did you get here?!" he demanded.

Franklin actually looked sheepish. If the situation wasn't so strange, Hodges would have laughed.

"I… errr… kinda hitched a ride. I… um… asked Greg. Conrad will kill me when he finds out soon enough."

Hodges stared at him in disbelief.

Something was severely wrong here, and it wasn't just his broken arm and a poisoned vampire who should be recovering at home, not in his living room!

David played with the mug, resting his injured arm on the table. He grimaced a little.

"You should take your painkillers," Franklin remarked softly.

An orange prescription bottle was held out to him. When Hodges just looked at it, Franklin opened it without a word and took out two pills. A glass of water came next. Then a plate, which was filled with a waffle, and syrup was placed next to it.

Hodges shot him a quizzical look.

"Pain meds on an empty stomach aren't really good," Franklin only said, shrugging, looking embarrassed. "I made them fresh, so if you feel like eating… and the sugar in the syrup might be good to help you get some energy back."

"You don't have to be play nanny," Hodges said gazing at the waffle. "I'm fine. I can be on my own."

Franklin's face went through several expression, then settled on what could be called determined stubbornness with a hint of guilt.

"I hurt you, David. It's the least I can do. And as I said, I don't mind."

Hodges looked at his arm, then back at the vampire. "This wasn't your fault."

"It was. I attacked you." Franklin shook his head. "I should have recognized you, but I didn't. It's not really doing much for our relationship, hm?"

The last was said with a dark smile, but the eyes of the other man were filled with despair.

"Franklin, my injury was not your fault," Hodges repeated firmly. "I'm an ally, I grew up with vampires left and right, I knew what I should do. I did it, and I made a mistake. I never gave you time to realize it was me. I hurt you by pulling out the dart and you reacted on instinct."

"I knew you were there!" the blond argued. "I had seen you, I know you're an ally! Hell, if anyone else had been there, I would have hurt a complete stranger!"

"So it's good it was me."

The moment it was out, David knew that the other man had picked it up the wrong way.

"No!" Franklin exclaimed. "It's not okay to hurt you! I never meant to do any harm, before or now! When I walked into that lab it was just to talk to you, to find out who you were, why you were asking questions! I never asked where your information on me had come from or I would have known there were untruths and old news among the facts. I never considered you might be… frightened by me. Well, okay, I was hoping to intimidate you, but not like that!"

He made a helpless gesture.

"David, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean this. Not the threats, not this. I broke your arm, I hurt you, and I could easily have been more. Worse…"

Yes, it could have been, but Hodges didn't blame anyone but himself for the injury. He had misjudged the situation, had handled it like a rookie.

Because he had been out of the loop, because he hadn't worked as an ally for so long. Because he had screwed up. Franklin's reaction to his 'help' had been that of an injured animal, biting and clawing at the helping hand because he was afraid, scared, terrified… and in such terrible pain.

Looking at the agitated vampire, remembering the few encounters of before, the way Franklin had tried to apologize… had meant it… had sought to explain and ask forgiveness… a second chance…

And that chance had been the meeting at the café.

But Hodges had blown it; not Franklin.

"It wasn't your fault," he repeated firmly.

Franklin's eyes flared briefly, probably without the vampire consciously being aware of it, and strangely enough it didn't have any effect of Hodges. He looked into the silvery eyes, set in a face that reflected al the misery this man was putting himself through, and he was looking at no enemy but a being he knew.

Franklin was a vampire. He knew vampires.

"It was!" the blond now insisted. "I broke your arm! What if I had broken your neck?"

"You didn't, Franklin! And stop blaming yourself!" Hodges snapped.

"But…"

And he lost his patience. Guilt was one thing. It was helped along the road to oblivion by forgiveness and reason. He had tried it both. Now it was time for the heavy artillery.

The waffle described an almost perfect arc as he flung it across the table, dead on target. Hampered maybe by the cast, Hodges still had good aim. Syrupy side first, the baked good landed smack halfway in Franklin's face, halfway on his gray shirt.

Time froze; stood still.

David Hodges froze with it. His eyes widened, his mouth opened, but no sound came out.

He stared at the vision of blond hair, a sticky, syrupy face, and a waffle slowly peeling off the pale skin.

It landed with a muffled, wet sound. On the floor. At Franklin's feet.

The vampire stared at him, thunderstruck. Dumbfound. Flabbergasted.

"Uh…" Hodges just managed.

"You… that…" Franklin stuttered, clearly unable to get a coherent thought.

It wasn't any day a vampire was attacked by a maple syrup waffle he had made himself.

Hodges blinked.

The outrageousness of the situation struck him.

And he started to laugh.

David Hodges, who barely made it into a true smile in public, almost doubled over at the sight of a vampire covered in syrup.

He was soon joined by aforementioned vampire. Franklin chuckled, then started to laugh harder as his attempts to wipe the syrup away only ended with him having the gooey substance smeared everywhere.

David snickered anew and his ribs complained mightily at the aggravation of the bruises. He finally gave a groan of surrender, curling his good arm around his hurting body.

"Ow, don't do this!" he gasped.

"Do what?" Franklin demanded, using a towel to get the worst off. "You launched that projectile at me!"

"You're the vampire with the super-human reflexes! You should have seen it coming!"

"Hello? I'm recovering from Hawthorne here!"

Hodges caught the merry glint in the gray eyes, saw the humor, and he couldn't but chuckle again.

"Excuses, excuses. You're just old."

Hodges saw it coming, but he wasn't mobile enough to evade the stained towel landing on his head.

Both men broke out in laughter again, which was interrupted by groans from Hodges.

"Ow, ow, ow…"

Franklin smiled, but he had his laughter under control, and he plucked the towel from him.

"Sorry," he said. "You okay?"

"No, but I needed that," David smiled as well.

"Want another waffle?"

"No, thanks. I wasn't really hungry." He felt the painkillers kick in and tried to relax.

"So you just throw them at people?" Franklin teased as he picked up the now inedible food from the floor. The waffle landed in the garbage.

"Yes, it's a hobby."

"Figured as much."

Hodges regarded the vampire, seeing the lines that had been in that pale face ease and he nodded to himself. Much better. He didn't blame Franklin. He never had.

They ended up in the living room, Hodges trying to find a comfortable position, a fresh mug of tea in his hands. The TV was still running and it lulled Hodges into a doze.

The barriers had started to crack. He had actually let someone in for a brief moment. Wary, too exhausted to do much more, he decided to lay in wait.

Maybe, just maybe, getting burned wasn’t an option here.

But hadn’t that been the exact same thing he had thought back in L.A.?

* * *

Lambert Falls looked like dead. It was just past midnight and all lights were out. The general store was closed, the gas station locked, and even the local bar was silent. Buck trotted past the deathly quiet homes, ears pricked for the smallest of sounds, but aside from the animal sounds around them and a slight breeze, nothing suspicious caught his attention. Vin was close behind him, moving with the same quiet grace as his partner.

It was a moonless, cloudy night, which gave the two wolves a lot of cover. Keeping to the buildings, hiding in the shadows, the wer approached the home of Gary Roman. Both were wearing backpacks, small, easily folded pieces of highly resistant material that moulded itself to the lithe forms.

Stopping at the back door of the silent house, Buck sniffed. The smell of humans was strong all around them, but there wasn’t a sign of one on the first floot. Looking at Vin, the two wolves exchanged silent looks, then Vin smoothly changed from wolf to human. He shivered in the cold and pulled out his sweats from the backpack.

Buck watched the area, tense and alert, as Vin professionally picked the lock and slipped inside. Moving slowly so his back was to the door and his eyes, ears and nose to the outside, the black wolf waited for his partner to return.  
   
 

Vin looked around the room he had just entered. It was the kitchen and it lay in total darkness. Padding across the hard floor on bare feet, he wondered where to start. If this was a crime scene, he would search every room, but he didn’t have time for that.

So he quickly scanned the kitchen for anything important, then decided to look for the study. A flicker caught his attention and he smiled as he discovered the sparrow. The bird sat on the kitchen counter, right next to the gecko, head tilted, expectant eyes on him.

“All right, lead on,” he whispered softly.

The bird took off and the gecko swiftly ran across the floor, unhindered by walls and doors. Vin followed, careful not to make any noise. The sparrow led him along the hallway into what had to be a small office. It was cluttered, dominated by huge shelves full of folders and stacks of paper that looked as old as Roman had probably been. The computer that was gathering dust in one corner had to come from one of the first home computers ever made.

JD would have a field day, Vin thought, amused.

The sparrow landed on one of the shelves and hopped around the narrow ledged, picking at a leather bound book. Vin walked over and it moved aside as the spirit walker pulled out the book.

He had expected it to be old and musty and smelling of leather, but it was rather new and the leather was fake. Vin raised an eyebrow at the sparrow, which nodded encouragingly. His own spirit animal had climbed up onto his shoulder and was peering at the book.

Leafing through the book, Vin’s eyebrows climbed even higher.

It was a diary.

Well, not really. It was a book full of notes and thoughts and they dealt with Roman himself and Mike Paul. Deciding to take the book with him, Vin slipped it into his backpack and shot the sparrow a look.

“Anything else?” he whispered.

The bird hopped onto his shoulder and rubbed its head against his cheek, then fluttered off, disappearing into nothingness.

Guess not, Tanner thought.

So this was it. The important thing here.

He snuck back through the kitchen to the outside, locking the door. Buck was waiting for him, the yellow eyes holding a question. Vin just nodded and began to undress. Hiding the sweats in the backpack, he changed back to his wolf form and the two were off into the woods, leaving the sleeping town behind.

* * *

They returned the campground in the early morning hours, gray shapes in the twilight. The fire pit was cold, the tent still closed, and no foreign smell spoke of any untimely visitors. No one had come here or within the vicinity, and the two men changed back into their human forms.

Dressing quickly against the chill of the morning, Vin then got the fire going while Buck rummaged around their packs for breakfast. Both were tired.  
"So, what did you find?" Buck asked as he settled down next to the fire.

Vin got out the book. "Roman's spirit animal led me to this. It's like a note book or a makeshift diary."

Buck cocked one eyebrow, then patted the place next to him. Vin chuckled and huddled down beside his lover. When the water was hot and a first cup of instant coffee was in their hands, they began to read. Sitting together, food warming over the fire, both men leaved through the book.

“The truth is out there,” Buck murmured a well-known quote after a few pages.

Vin nodded, leaning against him, reading. “Yeah, ain’t that the truth. Damn.”

Michael Paul had been a vampire. He had come to live in Lambert Falls about ten years earlier after apparently inheriting the old farm. Introducing himself as an artist, he had then started a little business with sculptures made of old wood, farm tools, and whatnot. No one questioned his reclusive life style because a lot of people lived in the mountains who simply sought the peace and quiet of a simple life.

Within the first year, Gary Roman had discovered the truth about Paul, mainly because the blood the vampire needed and which he couldn’t get otherwise was delivered by mail. The spiritwalker was an ally and as such knew to watch out for small signs. He did and found a paranormal among the population of the tiny town of Lambert Falls.

The two men had become good friends over the discovery of both being more than the eye could see.

About three weeks ago, Roman had noticed a change of behavior in his friend. The vampire had become nervous after the visit of what had apparently been a tourist. The man had been interested in the artwork Roman had from his friend, and Roman had been kind enough to point him the right way.

After the visit, Mike Paul had been truly spooked.

‘When I asked him, Mike said the man had been one of Them. I had no idea what he was talking about and he said there were people out there hunting his kind. Freaks and weirdoes who think vampires are evil incarnate. I was shocked. I had never thought about such danger to my friend. Mike told me the man had left after buying a little sculpture, but he is sure he is a hunter. Mike is scared. I’ve never seen a vampire so frightened, and I think he will run. Hide somewhere.’

Vin and Buck exchanged looks. They knew Mike Paul hadn’t been able to hide. He had been killed.

The diary proved them right as Roman wrote how he hadn’t heard of the vampire for a while, and that Mike would have told him if he left, even if it was just a brief call because of the blood deliveries and all. So when the blood had arrived and no vampire had come to pick it up, he had gone to check.

He had found the dead body of his friend.

‘I know more about vampires now than before Mike came here,’ he had written into his diary. ‘I know that those wounds, even while fatal for humans, wouldn’t have killed him. He would have died, come back, and required blood, but Mike had remained dead. I’m sure the hunter did something else. But our doctor doesn’t know a thing about Mike’s true nature, so he just released the body and he was buried.’

But Roman had been unable to rest. He had started to investigate on his own, wanted to know who had taken Mike’s life, and he had apparently found the man.  
After that he had tried to contact anyone out there who was receptive.

Anyone at all.

He had found Ecklie.

Soon after his last ‘communication’ he had died, apparently of heart failure.

His last entry was the night before he had been found.

Buck exhaled slowly. “Shi-it. Vampire hunter.”

“Yep,” Vin murmured, shivering a little.

He had been chased by a werewolf hunter and he had nearly died. Buck hugged him, pressing a little kiss against his temple.

“We need to call Chris and Ezra,” Vin said, snuggling into the embrace.

The sun was now completely over the horizon and the forest around them woke in the early morning light.

“Yeah. We’ve got a description of the guy in here and I suspect here’s a lot more between the lines that we can’t read. This,” Buck lifted the small book, “has to go to the shamans.”  
   
 

They left after breakfast, driving down the highway and away from Lambert Falls. As much as Buck really wanted to talk to Lewis and ask him questions about the ‘tourist’ Mike had been so afraid of, he knew it would blow their cover. Two murders had happened here, but it wasn’t here they would find the killer. The hunter had already left, looking for his next victim.

* * *

Chris had come home early after closing a particularly nasty case, seeking nothing but the comfort of his own four walls, a beer, maybe some snacks, and the couch. He didn't want to think about the report he had to write on a serial killer with such a sick mind it even turned his stomach – and Chris had seen enough in his life to consider himself hardened to most things. But only most of them.

The call from Buck hadn’t helped elevate his mood any. A vampire hunter had killed one of his kind, had also murdered an innocent man, and was still on the loose.

Wonderful.

Just wonderful.

What surprised him was the presence of Ezra in their house. His lover and partner should be at The Grotto, taking care of the everyday affairs, but here he was – and he was… agitated.

To agitate Ezra Standish, major trouble had to hit. Or it had to be something close to home. Chris knew for a fact that the whole team was currently very much out of trouble, did their daily jobs and none of their friends or extended family had been reported injured, ill or otherwise in trouble.

So it had to be with the community.

As much as Larabee was Ezra's life partner, his chosen partner, his lover, he usually tried to weasel out of vampire affairs. He had a stressful job already with the CSI of Salt Lake City. He didn't need community affairs on top of that. Ezra dealt with all of that and he dealt well with it.

"Ezra?" he queried softly as he entered the living room.

The older vampire looked up, green eyes glowing softly. It wasn't the glow of aggression but emotional upset.

So it was something personal.

But…

Chris frowned.

Ezra had no family. He had a lot of friends, but none had ever evoked such a reaction, whatever trouble they had been in. And the last time Chris had seen his lover react like that had been…

When I was dying, he thought.

"What happened?" he wanted to know.

"I had a call from Vegas," was the soft answer and he noticed the fine tremor.

Ah hell…

Like Salt Lake, Las Vegas had developed a tendency to attract problems. There was also a hefty collection of rare, unknown or new paranormals gathering there. The Shamans were already getting gray hair from what was going down in Salt Lake. Ever since Grissom and Nick had become part of the paranormal world, things had started to happen in Vegas, too.

Just recently Caine had died there, transferring his powers into none other than Conrad Ecklie, and the Assistant Director was now a shaman himself.

Sometimes Chris wondered if things could get any weirder.

"A vampire hunter was sighted there," Ezra added.

Chris froze, shock coursing through him. "Vampire hunter?” he asked numbly.

Ezra looked at him, brows drawing down. “Chris?”

“Buck called from Montana. The whole thing with Ecklie and the mysterious caller… it seems like there was a vampire living in Lambert Falls and he was killed by a vampire hunter. The man who called Ecklie was a spirit walker and he was killed, too.”

Ezra’s eyes were almost comically wide in shared shock. “Hell,” he whispered hoarsely.

“This can’t be coincidence,” Chris murmured. “I mean, I have no idea if vampire hunters are like werewolf hunters, but this looks… coordinated.”

Ezra’s face hardened. “They are nothing alike.”

“Explain?”

"There's a story behind their existence, and they normally work for us," Chris raised an eyebrow at that, "but this one wasn't one of them. I'll explain later."

“How is Franklin?” Chris wanted to know, accepting that.

"He was shot with a Hawthorne dart."

“Ah hell.”

Ezra's face looked drawn and he ran a shaky hand through his chestnut hair. A few years ago the news wouldn't have so much as drawn a twitch from him. Franklin was his supposed Sire, the vampire who had turned Ezra Standish, gambler, peacekeeper of Four Corners, and who had left him to fend for himself. At the time, Franklin had been young and hadn't known he had turned his victim. He had taken Ezra's life because he was too hungry to wait much longer, killing instead of just wounding the gambler. Ezra had come back, a vampire himself, ravenous, completely clueless as to what he was, but instead of turning into a rogue to be hunted and killed, Ezra Standish had risen to the challenge and become who he was today.

Chris was still in awe at the strength of his lover, the resilience, the sheer survival instinct. He had gone through the same change, but he had had help. Ezra had been there, and Luther had trained him, was still his surrogate Sire. Chris knew the debilitating hunger, the roaring instinct to take what he needed, and he understood it all very clearly.

Franklin had never been high on Ezra's Christmas wish list after he had found out who his Sire had been, that he had been an accident. Chris had worked long and hard at trying to get Ezra to understand that the older vampire was just as much a victim of circumstances as Ezra himself.

It had worked.

He had managed to get Ezra down from his barely restrained wish to kill Franklin.

When Franklin had found his life partner, things had changed dramatically. Before, he had been tolerated in Salt Lake, but had never come because he respected Ezra's power too much. Franklin had lost his position after the revelation of what he had done in his past, as his connection to Ezra had become known. He had never really minded, as far as Chris knew.

Now he was a friend. He and Ezra were civil with each other, and Ezra had gone lengths into helping Conrad Ecklie understand what being with a life partner meant, that Franklin was serious about his commitment, and it was the best sign in Chris's eyes.

"How is he?" Larabee now asked, sounding shocked.

"Recovering. Weak. Probably in a hell lot of pain."

Ezra knew the effects of Hawthorne. It had been over this close call that the two men had found together.

"It was close," Standish went on, voice distant. "He was saved because an ally intervened before the attacker could stake him, or worse."

Vampires didn't turn into dust at being staked, but some truth remained about the attack – destroy the heart and even vampires died. They weren't very different from humans in that regard.

"The community is looking for him. They won't stop before they find the guy. Nothing else is important."

Chris stepped closer and placed a gentle hand onto Ezra's shoulder, squeezing it a little.

"Other communities are on alert, too," his lover continued, not meeting his eyes. He was very far away. "There might be more than one victim."

"You want to go to Vegas?" Chris asked softly.

"I wouldn't be able to change anything."

"You could go and see Franklin. I know you're worried."

Ezra shot him a dark look. "He's healing, Chris. There's nothing I can do there either."

"True."

Still, he held the green eyes, aware that while Ezra fought the emotions, he wanted to make sure that Franklin was okay. They might not be sire and child for real, but the past year or more had brought them closer. Ezra had involved himself enough to care about Franklin's relationship with a human. That spoke more than words.

"Go. See him."

“With vampire hunters on the lose I can’t, Chris.”

“I’ll be here. I can manage for a while,” Chris reassured him. “You’ll be running a ditch into the floor if you can’t get the confirmation that he’s fine.”

Ezra shot him a dark look. “Franklin isn’t my sire, Chris. He’s a friend.”

“Which is more than you could have said a few years back,” his lover teased him gently.

An exasperated look. “Yes, but it doesn’t warrant a visit!”

“It would be a sign, though. Las Vegas is in trouble enough already because of the past. To have you go there and support them a little would probably go a long way.”

Chris knew he was winning by the changing expression in his lover’s face.

“All right!” Ezra growled explosively. “Stop it already. I’m going!”

Chris drew him into a kiss. “Good.”

And with that it was settled.

At least for now.

* * *

It was surprising what a few well-placed calls could dig up on a person. Gil Grissom had never been very politically adept. He hated to play the game, but this time he had outdone himself. Just because he hated it didn’t mean he couldn’t have a go for a few rounds.

His first call to L.A. had been brief. The supervisor of the dayshift hadn’t been in. The next one had been more lucky. Martin Will had been in and he had been only too open to talk about one David Hodges, forensic scientist, with him. What Grissom hadn’t known when he had employed the technician he knew now.

And it was bad.

He couldn’t fault Will for writing such a perfect recommendation because it had been Hodges’ only chance to leave, without having a black mark in his personal records for all time.

David Hodges had started with the L.A. PD crime lab several years ago. His work had been excellent, without flaw, something Grissom had seen right away in his file. There wasn’t a doubt about the man’s abilities.

Then an accident in the lab had destroyed evidence and more had disappeared throughout clean-up. The first suspicion had fallen on Hodges, who had been the last person that day to enter the lab section where it had happened. He had denied all involvement, had stated that he had turned off all electronics, had secured everything, and he wasn’t to blame.

Barely anyone believed him.

The director of the crime lab got involved and only because of happenstance had the real culprit been found – a colleague and friend of Hodges. He had taken money to destroy vital evidence in a rape and murder case that involved a very prominent face of L.A., and he had let Hodges take the fall.

Despite being cleared later on, the rumors about Hodges persisted.

Had he been a partner? Had he known? Had he covered? No one could do such a thing alone and surely Hodges had been involved.

The rumors and lies started flying. His work was questioned, his examinations re-examined, his analysis analysed once more. Like a rookie he wasn’t allowed to make a steps without two people having a look at the foot print.

So Hodges had approached Will, had give him two options: he either left with good recommendations and to a new lab, or he would see to it that L.A. had the lawsuit of the century hovering above their heads. Hodges knew it would probably end with his discharge anyway, but the man had become bitter and cynical.

So Will had written the papers and Las Vegas had been Hodges’ next stop. Grissom had employed him. End of story.

Gil didn’t believe there was an actual end to this. Hodges had been burned so bad, the scars would probably never heal. He had been accused of tempering with evidence, of destroying it, and so it was no great surprise that he had never made himself known to the community as an ally. As such he would be required to alter evidence in their favor without compromising a case, and he had been accused of it before.

No, Hodges wouldn’t touch evidence with a long stick to temper with it.

And he refused to have people get to know him.

Because the last person who had been a friend had used him, betrayed him, and left him to take the fall.

Now he knew about the Nexus, though. He knew about the paranormals in the lab. He knew about the special circumstances. And Hodges had acted as an ally while helping Franklin. He could have walked away and hadn’t.

Maybe it was a first step.

Grissom hoped so. He truly hoped so.

* * *

Hodges had returned to the lab, to his work, despite still having an arm in a cast. It wasn't really a handicap, just a bother, he told himself as he slipped into his lab coat and entered his lab.

His co-workers had asked how he was, had heard about the accident, but he had brushed them off. The official version was that it had been a stupid accident at home, that he had broken his arm and bruised some ribs.

Starting the computer to log into the lab's net, Hodges wasn't aware of his visitor until he turned. It almost gave him a heart attack.

Gil Grissom, carrying several files in his hands, looked at him over the rims of his glasses as if Hodges was an apparition he had never seen before.

"Sir?" Hodges asked.

"What are you doing here?" Grissom wanted to know, sounding mystified.

"I work here."

"I know that, Hodges. I was just wondering what you were doing here right now."

"Working?"

"David, you've been in an accident. You left the hospital against medical advice. You spent two days at home." Grissom's voice was soft but firm as he recited the facts. "You are on sick leave."

"I'm fine," Hodges muttered defensively and turned back to his work.

His left arm rested on the table and he felt a distant ache start again. He could work with only one hand as long as no precision was needed. He might just be able to survive till he got the cast taken off.

"Go home, David," Grissom said, walking around the desk to face him.

Hodges felt himself tense. "I'll be okay. I can work."

"No."

The word was calm, precise, with firm authority to it.

His tension grew.

"Listen," Hodges said as calmly as he could, eyes on his superior. "It was an accident. It's nothing serious. I can do my job. I promise!"

Grissom's blue eyes took on a strange expression. "There is nothing wrong with taking sick leave. You know I have to send you home anyway. You can't work Trace with a broken arm and while on medication."

Hodges bit his lower lip.

"David. Go – home. Don't make me order you."

He felt frozen to the spot. Go home? And then what? Come back to hear more rumors? To see another recommendation in his file that would get him transferred?

"This isn't L.A."

His head whipped up at the calmly spoken words and he stared at the older man, shell-shocked.

L.A.

He knew about… L.A.

Then again, he had to, right? Grissom had hired him. They had had the obligatorily talk and he had then signed the papers. But Grissom had never asked him about L.A. in their talks. He had never dug into his past, right?

Now he had.

And he probably knew it all.

Hodges swallowed, his mouth dry.

"Go home. Get well," Grissom continued. "I'll see you when the cast is off and your doctor tells you that you can handle lab equipment."

Hodges felt a fine tremor run through him.

Grissom knew about L.A. That meant probably Nick, too.

"And David?"

He looked up, surprised to find that Grissom had already made it to the door without him being aware of the other man truly moving.

"I don't listen to rumors and lies."

With that, he was gone. Hodges stared at the open door, mind strangely blank.

He left the PD not much later. The sun wasn't completely down yet and he stood outside the building, wondering what to do. He had come by bus because he wasn't allowed to drive. He could just as well take the next one home. Or he could walk a bit.

Whatever.

He started walking.

*

He didn’t know why he had ended up here. He only knew he had. Again.

Hodges smiled wryly.

Great. Now he was subconsciously looking for help from a woman he didn’t really know. A woman who had only been sent to find him, keep him from doing something foolish…

…and who had sat with him two days ago, radiating such comfort he hadn’t felt all too bad.

Shaman powers, he thought distantly. Nandi was a shaman she used those powers to help.

Did he need help now?

His aching arm pulsed and he cradled it gently. The Shaman Casino and Hotel rose colorfully, brightly before him, and he just stood there, waiting for a sign. Last time Nandi’s assistant had come out to get him.

He had no hopes now.

The crisis was over. There was no need to baby-sit or comfort him.

Hodges turned and started to walk away, pushing through the tourists, still cradling his arm.

He was so confused. He wanted to talk to someone, explain his actions, explain everything, but he knew he wouldn’t get a word out even if someone – anyone – offered an open ear. L.A. hovered above him like a dark cloud.

Wasn’t my fault, he thought angrily. Nothing of this was my fault!

And no one had backed him up. They had all just let him take the fall. He had been recommended for another post, had been left alone and hung out to dry, and he had taken the only opportunity he had.

Las Vegas.

Where he now was an active ally. He had consciously, more or less anyway, made the step. He had exposed himself to the paranormal world in this town.

And Grissom knew about him.

He knew everything.

He knew all the dirty little details about the accident. Grissom was probably rethinking everything by now. Hodges would be out of work soon enough. Not only had he failed as an ally. He had failed at work, too. How could they expect him to work as an ally, hide evidence, when he had been accused of tempering with it in L.A. already? How could they think he would do it unobstrusively?

Gritting his teeth, he wished there was a way to make it all undone.

If he had never become friends with Stan… if he had never told him so much about himself, had gone for a beer with his fellow technician… had opened up. But he had. He hadn’t thought about what dangers such a friendship could bring because he had wanted colleagues and friends, not just co-workers. And Stan Surminski had set him up to take his fall. He had manipulated him, had used him, and David had been left speechless, shocked and forever scarred by it.

Stan had wanted him blamed for the manipulated evidence. He had coolly stood aside and watched as the noose had tightened around the unsuspecting lab tech’s neck. Hodges had fought all those allegations, all the blame, everything, and he hadn’t understood why he was suspected anyway.

When the truth had come out, it had been a blow into his face. It had destroyed everything, most of all his trust in people and his willingness to become a part of something.

Hodges stopped in front of the Luxor and gazed at the big, black pyramid, with its brightly glowing tip that was lancing a beam of white light into the night sky. In front of it, people took photos of the sphinx and the pyramid and the obelisk. All looked so normal.

Hodges smiled disdainfully.

Nothing had ever been normal for him.

He sank down on a bench, gritting his teeth as the ache became a more constant pulse, feeling like someone was trying to drive a nail into his arm.

Should have taken those pain-killers, he mused, closing his eyes.

There was a slight jarring of the bench as someone else sat down and Hodges opened his eyes. They widened almost comically as he took in the person next to him.

“Nandi?”

She gave him a smile. “You didn’t come in, so I thought I’d keep you company.”

“Why?” he blurted.

“Why not?”

Hodges rose angrily, briefly biting his lip at the pain the movement caused. He began to walk away, acutely aware of her following.

“Stop being so… compassionate, okay?” he said angrily.

“Am I not allowed to worry about you?”

“Not without good reason! And you have no reason. We hardly know each other! You were my caretaker and that’s it. It’s over!”

People shot glances at him, but no one really stopped or said anything. Nandi met his angry eyes with that damnable calm. He hated her for the compassion because it was something he was so bad at.

“I thought I was your friend, David.”

“I have no friends,” he said automatically.

And he didn’t want them. Friends were a liability. Friends got you into trouble. Friends were a weakness that destroyed his personal shields and would one day destroy him.

Stan had proven that to him.

“Then let me be your first.”

He wanted it so badly. He wanted someone to talk to, someone where he didn’t have to watch what he said, someone he could trust, someone… someone who accepted what had happened and wouldn’t listen to the rumors and lies.

Hodges felt something inside of him cry out; he was so close to the breaking point.

He wanted to be part of this, yes. He wanted to be able to trust, to be of help to these people because he knew there was something special here. But… what if he opened up… only to be burned?

When she steered him toward The Shaman, he didn’t really fight her. He was irritable because of the pain, snapping and biting, and he wanted to just bury somewhere, hide.

Maybe the casino was the place.

When he was aware of his surroundings the next time, he sat in her wonderfully calm and peaceful office, on that comfortable couch, and she was holding out a mug of tea.

“You used your powers,” he murmured.

Nandi gave him an apologetic look. “You’re in pain, David. I wanted to help.”

“Why?” he asked again, voice soft.

“Do you need a reason to have friends?”

Hodges smiled derisively. “Friends aren’t a luxury I can have.”

“You can now. If you let them in.”

Let her in. Let them be friends. It sounded so wonderful. He wanted that.

But why would she want to?

Nandi rested a hand on his cast and he felt the warmth again, felt the pain disappear. She smiled at him, at his incredulous expression.

“Earth magic can do wonders. I can’t simply heal your injury, but I can help it along.”

“You don’t have to,” he mumbled, stunned.

“I want to, David. We all want to help. Whatever happened to you, give us a chance.”

He buried his head in his hands.

“Do you want to?” Nandi wanted to know.

He knew he was trembling. Looking up. Hodges swallowed at her gentle expression.

“I can’t do this again,” he whispered. “I can’t take the fall again.”

“You won’t. This isn’t like before. This is different.”

Yes, it was. Everything was so different, but it had been the same when the lab had exploded. He had been suspected once more, blame had been shoved his way, and he had bristled and snapped and growled.

“David?” Nandi queried. “I promise to be your friend. I have nothing to gain from lying to you. None of us do. We want you to be part of this.”

“Because of my winning personality?”

She chuckled. “You have a very bad opinion of yourself.”

He shrugged, evading her eyes. “Ask anyone. I have an attitude problem.”

“I’m not asking anyone. I’ve met you, David, and I like who I met.”

Hodges felt himself blush. Great. Now he was being embarrassed over a meaningless compliment from a woman who hardly knew him and who he would probably never see again aside from ally work.

“Give us and yourself a second chance, David. Please. It’s all we ask for.”

Open up… set himself up for another painful betrayal…

Hodges closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. He had already opened himself up. He had helped Franklin, had acted as an ally despite his refusal to be an active one, and he had been accepted. He and Franklin had talked, and he had felt good.

“Okay,” he whispered softly. “Just don’t expect me at the next company barbecue.” A little smirk accompanied the words.

Nandi smiled. “You’ll be fine,” she reassured him. “Everything will be fine.”

He just hoped and prayed it would be.

* * *

News travelled fast. It wasn’t always correct, and rumors and lies travelled a lot faster and were a lot more persistent than the truth, but news went around.

So when the first scraps about the vampire hunter’s death came through, the vampires of Las Vegas listened up. When it was then confirmed that the man had been found and killed by another hunter, one of vampire origin, relief spread. It was a cautious relief because freaks persisted and were always looking for ways to exterminate ‘evil’, but at least this one had been taken down.

Vin and Buck had flown home from Montana and had handed over the diary. From the information in Roman’s notes it was soon clear that the man who had killed Roman and Paul was not the same who had been after Franklin.

That news travelled fast, too.

Ezra’s visit in Las Vegas had been taken as a good sign, though it had shocked Franklin to have his ‘illegal’ child appearing on his door step. Still, Chris had been right. It had done wonders for the vampires in Vegas to have the community head of Salt Lake come to their plagued town.

Still, the sudden appearance of two hunters who had almost timed their attacks, one of them even killing a by-stander, had everyone tense and on their toes.

Things were happening.

And they weren’t good.


End file.
